I just got to turn the grease cup." He hurried down past the child, who called him "M'sieu Yankee," and elbowed his way through the group of soldiers who were standing about _Uncle Sam_.
"Your timer bar's bent," one of them volunteered.
Tom did not answer, but knelt and turned the grease cup, then wiped the nickel surfaces, bent and dented though they were, with a piece of cotton waste.

Then he felt of his tires.

Then he adjusted the position of the handle-bar more to his liking and as he did so the poor, dented, glassless searchlight bobbed over sideways as if to look at the middle of the street.

Tom said something which was not audible to the curious onlookers.

Perhaps _Uncle Sam_ heard.
The local rider came jogging around the corner on his way back.